


Blood, Sweat, and Tears

by nonnymouse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Ending, Bondage, Choking, Clitoridectomy, Cunnilingus, F/F, Sewing patterns into lover's skin with pretty thread, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: Gymnastics coach mutilates her cute student and has a fun time doing it.
Relationships: Gymnastics coach/Gymnast, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Blood, Sweat, and Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elijah_was_a_prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijah_was_a_prophet/gifts).



The groan of the locker room door being thrown open echoed through the cavernous gym, without any gymnasts at practice to muffle the noise. Gina whirled toward the sudden noise, almost dropping her mop, and saw Tiffany fighting to free a giant duffle bag from the locker room door that had shut on it. "Fucking shit fuck!" she heard Tiffany yell at the door, a far cry from the smile-through-anything attitude they cultivated at the training facility.

"Need some help?"

Tiffany looked her way with startled eyes, revealing the tears streaking down her blotchy face. "Thanks, Coach Benson," she said, with a sad attempt at her usually brilliant smile. Gina took a moment to admire how good it looked on her, bravely trying to mask her despair. She liked that Tiffany tried to keep her chin up, though she'd never done anything to be particularly proud of aside from being born pretty.

Still, this was the sort of thing that should bother a caring coach, which Tiffany thought she was. Leaving the mop where it was, Gina hurried over to hold the door open. "You the last one out?" she asked, trying to sound casual. She'd thought all the girls had left ages ago, before she'd even started cleaning. She must have overlooked Tiffany in one of the stalls or something, tucking herself away for a good cry. Gina could hardly believe her luck. She'd even tried to get out of the cleaning rota that morning. Some things were meant to be, the universe aligning itself to make things possible for those who helped themselves.

"Yeah," Tiffany said, tapping her fingers up and down the strap of her duffle in a percussive solo of nerves. For a moment, she contented herself with tapping, but then the words burst through. "I don't want to leave. I know it's already over, but it feels like it will really only be over once I walk through that door. It's just so unfair! I'll be eligible for the Olympics again! But my mom can't afford to pay for me to train 'til then, not like Nancy and ..." She trailed off with a sigh, without naming the many other girls who were more fortunate than her. Not that Tiffany wasn't plenty fortunate herself, having made it to the training facility at all. "This was my one shot, and I did everything I could, and I just wasn't good enough." This time when she looked at Gina, there was an expectation in her eyes.

Little Tiffany worshipped the ground Gina walked on. Coach Gina Benson, who had a team gold medal hanging in her office, who had gone where all the girls training in the gym wanted to go. She'd welcomed that worship from all the girls but especially from Tiffany, with her bouncy blonde ponytail and long-lashed doe brown eyes. Eyes that were always smiling, but so suited to looking sad. She'd been adorable every time she came to friendly Coach Benson for an encouraging hug and insider advice. But she'd packed her bags. That was over now.

Which meant Gina didn't hug Tiffany and lie to her again. She shrugged, and said, "You never had a chance, you stupid slut." All Tiffany had ever had to do was look in the mirror and see how her generous curves strained her leotards. The way her boobs bounced as she did her routines was charming as hell, but the judge's didn't like to see that. She had the height, the shoulders, the muscle, but she also had those fucking aces tits that looked obscene when she posed like America's Teenage Sweetheart, and that was enough to keep her from having a gymnast's figure.

"Coach Benson?" Tiffany asked hesitantly, clutching at that duffle strap. It really was sweet, that she thought she'd heard wrong somehow. Surely her favorite coach hadn't called her a slut. Or stupid.

Gina punched her in the face, aiming right beneath one of those confused but trusting eyes.

Tiffany dropped hard, but gymnasts were used to pushing through the pain. She unsnapped her duffle strap and ran.

She was fast. Fast enough to hit a pommel horse and complete all but that final half rotation, because she'd never been good enough. Gina was faster. She'd always stuck the landing.

Gina didn't waste her time being fancy. She plowed straight into Tiffany, hit the floor with her, ignored Tiffany's aimless flailing, and got her hands around Tiffany's pretty little throat. She looked absolutely exquisite choking, her big, betrayed eyes taking up her entire face. Lying on the floor with her, Gina could stare right into their confused depths. It took plenty of strength to hold on as she fought, but Gina had strength to spare, and soon enough Tiffany passed out.

Gina pulled Tiffany's clothes off first, not wanting to waste time figuring out how to get them off after she had Tiffany tied up. She regretted it a little, because it was hard to walk away from that body once she could see it, those huge tits she'd wanted her mouth on forever and that sweetly mutilated pussy.

Hurriedly, she headed to where the rhythmic gymnastics equipment was stored, and grabbed a couple of ribbons. Each one gave her twenty feet; that should be plenty. She hauled Tiffany's dead weight over to the uneven bars, thankful for the stools they used to help the youngest girls reach the bars until they were ready to jump. Working quickly, she hung Tiffany from her wrists, wrapping a sort of harness around her torso so that the ribbons didn't immediately snap. For the moment, she left the stool supporting Tiffany.

Thankfully, she'd finished before Tiffany woke. Taking a moment to admire the sight of Tiffany hoisted in the air by seemingly delicate ribbons, she decided not to wait. She cupped one of those magnificent breasts, using both hands to lift it. Feeling magnetized, she lowered her head right to that dusty pink nipple, sucking it into her mouth. She rolled it between her lips, feeling the nipple harden. Beneath her hands, she could feel Tiffany's body start to stir, but she kept sucking until she'd had her fill. Then she played with the other breast while Tiffany kept asking her why, as if she couldn't look down and see why.

"You were just too much of a whore, weren't you?" she asked, looking up into Tiffany's terrified eyes. "I sent you to that doctor to get rid of that little clit and all the temptations it brought so you could focus, but not even that was enough to help you. No, you still wanted to cozy up to Coach Benson and rest your head on my breast while I told you what a good girl you were. Even now, a tiny bit of attention paid to your nipples and you're rocking your hips trying to get me to notice your needy pussy." Gina stroked the girl's pussy, slick with wetness that could be sweat, either from her last workout or from fear. But it could be more.

Gina knelt on the stool she'd been standing on, squeezing herself between Tiffany's legs. Her pussy was the cutest little thing, small and pink and untouched, the lips gently curving into the waxed skin of her crotch, nothing but smooth skin where the clit should be. She really had admired Coach Benson, to go see the shady doctor she'd arranged for her. She sealed her mouth over Tiffany's pussy, that perfect little pussy, one she could cover with a single broad swipe of her tongue. She pulled back so she could look up, though she couldn't quite see Tiffany's face over the curves of her tits. It was too bad, but she could still enjoy Tiffany's little cries of frustration as Gina lavished attention on her pussy. Kisses to the sensitive skin at the bend of her thighs, gentle licks to each lip, sucking it all into her mouth again, working her to a frenzy of endless frustration, unable to come without her clit to be the center of her pleasure.

She'd figure out soon enough that Gina's sexual pleasure was hers.

She enjoyed Tiffany's begging for awhile longer before deciding she was tired of it. Standing up, she let herself enjoy the relief in Tiffany's eyes. Gina smirked, waited for Tiffany to clue in, for that edge of fear to return, and right then she kicked the stool out from under her.

The uneven bar bounced as her weight fell, but it was made to withstand girls suddenly flinging their whole weight on it. Tiffany was even used to the shock of falling, but not like this. Her shriek of pain echoed through the empty gym. Gina wasn't sure, but she thought she heard the pop of one of her shoulders dislocating.

"Please," Tiffany begged. "Please let me go home."

Gina cupped her cheek, smiling at her sad, scared face. There was nothing there but animal vulnerability, a little girl who wanted her mother. "C'mon, Tiff. I know you aren't the smartest, but you have to have figured out you're not going home by now. No one here cares about a failure like you. By the time they realize you never made it home, no one will ever know when you disappeared. But look, I meant it when I said it to you one of those days when you were crying about some drama instead of focusing on your gymnastics. Mi casa es tu casa. I've got a little home gym you'll look great in as my own private gymnast."

Looking at Tiffany again, she realized she didn't look quite right hanging there in absolutely nothing. "In fact—hang on a sec."

She rushed over to the office, where she had a sewing kit for repairing rips in the girl's leotards. "Here we go," she said to herself, getting a needle threaded before returning to Tiffany.

"It's no Olympic leotard, but I hope you'll think it is even more special. One just for you, from me." She used blue to stitch the outline of the leotard. The needle pushed easily through Tiffany's soft young skin, though the length of it meant Gina always had to wiggle it quite a bit to work it through the other side. Surgical needles were short, curved things, but this was long and straight. The effort was worth it for the way Tiffany wailed. Gina worked the neckline in a flattering sweetheart shape beneath her graceful collar bones, stitched down her ticklish sides as she squirmed. She'd have to go over the areas the ribbons covered later. The work could have been tedious due to the repetitive nature, but Gina didn't think she'd ever get tired of the feeling when the needle penetrated Tiffany's skin, pushing in and claiming her for Gina.

She moved the stool to complete the back of the leotard, getting in several generous gropes as she held Tiffany's ass taut to ensure her lines for the seat of the leotard were straight. She left the crotch for last, two rows of stitches tracing the line of her pubic bone. A few times she'd swear she stuck the needle in deep enough to nick it. Tiffany certainly yelled like she had.

Gina breathed steadily as she stitched. It wouldn't do to mess up the pattern due to her own excitement. But it was hard to keep control when Tiffany flinched so cutely, little shrieks punctuating each stitch, despairing wails of tears whenever Gina paused, and all through it her sweet little pussy begging to be touched, dripping with Gina's spit. But you didn't get a gold metal if you couldn't keep your mind on the task in front of you, and Gina neatly knotted off the cord after the last stitch.

"Some stars for decoration, don't you think?" she asked, ignoring Tiffany's frantic shake of her head. This time she chose pink. Gymnasts understood the power of playing up your femininity. Besides, Tiffany looked extra cute and girlish in pink. Gina placed her legs on either side of one of Tiffany's, rubbing against her thigh as she worked. Tiffany smelled good, sweet like baby powder but sharp like blood, the musk of sweat layered beneath. She breathed in that smell again and again as she finished her masterpiece.

A small spray of stars descended from her neckline to the top of one breast, sweeping the eye across Tiffany's most beautiful feature. Blood poked out from each stitch, dripping, adding an abstract element to the neat pattern. Gina's cunt clenched and she pressed herself down harder, holding her legs tight to trap Tiffany's thigh in place as she pulled against the uneven bar in her struggle to get away.

"Fuck," Gina muttered. She dropped the needle, the stars where enough, shoved her hand down her pants and finished herself off in an orgasm powerful enough to make the world white out for a moment. She hadn't come that hard since fucking a girl from the Russian team after the medal ceremony. She had to grab Tiffany's hip for balance, making her cry out with renewed vigor as Gina pulled her down, straining her dislocated shoulder, but Gina caught her balance on the small stool quickly. She'd never fallen off a balance beam in performance and she wouldn't fall now.

She rested her hands on her knees, panting, taking a moment to be alone with her satisfaction.

"I won't—I won't tell anyone," Tiffany interrupted her.

Gina looked up in annoyance. "I already told you that I'm keeping you. Who are you going to tell? Look, Tiffany, life is going to be a bit different for you now. You're going to get another visit from the doctor, a few shots to bring some milk in, because what else are your tits for? She'll fix you up however else I want. You're going to be my toilet and drink my piss. You'll do the routines I give to you until you collapse, then I'll tie you up where you lie and fuck you. I don't even know what all I'll do to you, but I do know that this 'I'm dumb but it's okay because I'm cute' thing only works when you're young. So you might try harder to be clever as well as cute, Tiffany."

Tiffany looked like she'd been slapped, as stunned by Gina's harsh words as anything else she'd done to her. She did look pretty in her hand-stitched star leotard, and Gina never had been one to stay mad at her. That's just how Tiffany was. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't good enough. But Gina had some time alone with her now, and she'd make the most of it while she could. This was what Tiffany was meant for, not being a world-class gymnast. Gina was a top coach, and she could train Tiffany to be a great plaything.

Gina sighed, releasing her annoyance into the world, and smiled at Tiffany as she wrapped her hands around her neck again. "It'll all be okay, Tiff. When you wake up, you'll be where you belong."


End file.
